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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507734">Past hopes and future memories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantreallyfindausername/pseuds/icantreallyfindausername'>icantreallyfindausername</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Romance, Slow Burn, Starmora Week 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantreallyfindausername/pseuds/icantreallyfindausername</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe whatever Peter had found in Gamora was lost when she did not return from Vormir. Or maybe there is still something, a tiny glimmer of hope that keeps him going. Either way, he is not willing to risk losing her again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gamora &amp; Guardians of the Galaxy Team, Gamora &amp; Peter Quill, Gamora/Peter Quill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Like many other Starmora shippers and Gamora fans, I was disappointed by her storyline in both Infinity War and Endgame. And since frustration with canon is the fuel of fanfiction, here is the result, ready to be shared during Starmoraweek2020!<br/>I plan to post a chapter every week. I really hope you enjoy it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time stops when Peter sees her across the field, and for a fraction of a second he cannot breathe.</p>
<p>“I thought I had lost you…” he says, almost to himself, reaching out a hand to make sure she is not a mirage.</p>
<p>A swift movement and he is on the ground, in pain.</p>
<p>“Do not touch me,” comes her menacing voice above him, and he knows she is definitely not an illusion. Not quite his Gamora, either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once the battle is won and order is restored, once the fallen have been mourned and new life blossoms from their sacrifice, the Guardians leave again. Wandering aimlessly, as usual, until the next mission comes along with an opportunity to help the galaxy and cause a little mischief on the way.</p>
<p>Or so Peter tells the rest. Privately, he is set on finding her again, although he still does not know how. Lucky for him, space is not that big after all, and word travels fast, especially when concerning Thanos’s deadly daughter, whose enemies certainly have not decreased in number.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Peter finds her in a shady tavern on a less than welcoming planet, Gamora is surrounded by a hostile group of aliens. Spiky creatures tower above her, weapons strapped just above their many legs. The species’ facial features make it difficult to read their expression, but screeching voices and intimidating body language leave very little room for doubt in Peter’s mind.</p>
<p>“Hey!” he calls, clumsily making his way towards them in the crowded bar. “Hey, you– uhm… you guys!”</p>
<p>A couple of them turn slightly, and Gamora’s eyes focus on him, widening for a fraction of a second before narrowing in a glare.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” she hisses between her teeth as Peter shimmies between two aliens to slide beside her.</p>
<p>“Looked like you need a hand,” he whispers conspiratorially before adding louder “So, what’s going on here?”</p>
<p>A creature shrieks what must be a question, because Gamora says “Do not worry about him, he does not matter. Rath–”</p>
<p>“C’mon, I’m standing right here!” Peter’s indignant voice cuts across her, earning him a fiery glower.</p>
<p>“I am trying to negotiate a deal,” she sibilates to him underneath her breath.</p>
<p>“A deal? With these dudes?” His incredulous snicker is accompanied by a pat to the alien closer to him and Peter realizes his mistake a second too late.</p>
<p>At once, seven blasters are pointing at him and Gamora, who lets out a groan halfway between angry and exasperated. Peter’s hands rise in front of him, in what he hopes is a recognizable gesture of surrender.</p>
<p>“Alright, how about we all chill for a sec–”</p>
<p>He has barely started talking his way out of the mess when Gamora unsheathes her sword and cuts through three thorny limbs in one swift motion, painting the wall with green slime. Her agile backflip and double kick send the guns flying out of two other creatures’ grip. She easily snatches one on its way down, landing neatly on her feet, sword in one hand and blaster in the other, trained on the still armed aliens. A little less gracefully, Peter manages to catch the other gun a few inches from the ground, bouncing back up and focusing it on the rest of the group with a triumphant “Ah-ha!”</p>
<p>“Hand over the box,” Gamora orders the tallest of the weaponless aliens, gaze still fixed on the armed ones. He complies, apparently quite reluctant, and a small but heavy metal cube lands on Peter’s outstretched hand.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” she tells him, backing away toward the exit, never shifting her eyes from the group. Peter follows suit, slowly walking backwards across the tavern where clients do not dare to move a muscle, until they are both out in the open and out of harm’s way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whew! Nice going back there,” he comments as Gamora puts back her weapons with the same practiced movements he has seen her make a thousand times. He should be used to her astonishing fighting skills, yet they still elicit a thrill of awe from him.</p>
<p>She barely spares him a glance, unceremoniously grabbing the metal cube and turning on her heels to walk away. For a second, Peter is dazed enough that when he decides to follow he has to jog a little to catch up.</p>
<p>“I mean, those were some really neat moves, with the slicing and kicking and–”</p>
<p>“I would not have needed them, had you not interrupted,” she replies coolly, picking up her already fast pace.</p>
<p>“Oh, c’mon, it was fun! And you looked like you needed help.”</p>
<p>She stops abruptly and glares at him. “I do not care for fun. I had it under control, it was a simple retrieve. Then Starlord the interplanetary thief shows up and wrecks it!”</p>
<p>Peter looks smug for a moment at the mention of the beloved epithet, before registering the rest. “That’s not fair! I saved the galaxy. Twice.”</p>
<p>Gamora pins him in place with a glare. “Do not even start with that nonsense. Leave me alone or next time you will regret finding me,” she threatens before marching away again.</p>
<p>He knows the menace is not empty, and maybe long ago it would have had some effect on him. But this is Peter’s only chance and he is not giving up that easily. He is not giving up at all.</p>
<p>“Gamora, come on,” he calls, catching up with her once more. “You gotta admit that was pretty good teamwork,” he says with a wink.</p>
<p>“I do not do teamwork,” she replies, flatly.</p>
<p>A soft lopsided smile plays on Peter’s lips. “Actually, you do. You work great with us Guardians. You somehow manage to take advantage of Rocket’s crazy devices and turn Drax’s senseless strategies into something useful. Between your stealth and Groot’s vines, nothing’s out of reach. Combined with Mantis, you can wring the truth out of any criminal. And you’re the one single person Nebula actually listens to.”</p>
<p>It is only then that Gamora shoots him a sideways glance, and Peter guesses he has struck a nerve.</p>
<p>“She misses you, you know? In her own weird I-don’t-give-a-damn-about-anything way, she’d like to have her sister back.”</p>
<p>“Enough,” Gamora exclaims, turning abruptly to face him, and Peter almost bumps into her. A cold fire burns deep in her eyes. “Your blatant attempts at manipulating me will not work.”</p>
<p>“But I’m not–”</p>
<p>“Do not lie to me, Quill! What do you hope to obtain?”</p>
<p>“Ok, listen…” Self-conscious, he runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “I– we all miss you. We need our teammate, our friend…”</p>
<p>“I am neither,” Gamora replies in a stony voice.</p>
<p>A shadow passes over Peter’s face. Grief clouds his eyes as the harsh truth knocks the wind out of him. Maybe she is right, maybe whatever he had found in Gamora was lost when she did not return from Vormir. Or maybe there is still something, a tiny glimmer of hope that keeps him going. Either way, he is not willing to risk losing her again.</p>
<p>With some difficulty, he regains control. “But,” he retorts, aware that it is his last chance, “You’re still Nebula’s sister.” He waits for Gamora’s rebuttal, yet she seems to finally be considering his words. “I know your relationship isn’t the easiest, but you care for each other. You can work on it. Come back to the team. Please.”</p>
<p>Gamora studies him for a moment that seems to stretch on forever. Suspicion plays on her features as her piercing gaze searches him, looking for any sign that will help her decipher the intentions of the meddling Terran. Finally, she concedes with a curt nod.</p>
<p>Peter’s earnest expression of hope turns into a wide smile, disbelief quickly giving way to a euphoric sensation he can barely contain.</p>
<p>“Awesome!” he exclaims. Gamora's skeptical look makes it clear that she hardly shares his enthusiasm, yet not even her cynicism could ruin Peter’s mood right now. Standing a little taller, he cannot keep the triumphant pride out of his voice. “Welcome back to the Guardians of the Galaxy!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a bit of a short chapter, sorry. Hope you still enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Peter excitedly introduces her, Gamora does not need her keen trained eye to notice the whirlwind of emotions sweeping the Guardians.</p><p>Expressions vary as they take a moment to absorb the news of her return, if one can call it that. To her, it hardly feels like going back to something known, but it is obvious that the team has precise expectations regarding the meaning of this event. Mantis is the first to break the tense silence that follows Peter’s announcement, letting out a delighted squeal and approaching her with open arms. Gamora’s fingers are already on the hilt of her sword when Peter stops the well-meaning empath, who settles for smiling brightly at her friends.</p><p>The rest of the crew is still staring at her with different degrees of suspiciousness, which Gamora cannot truly blame, but which she still finds quite unnerving. From the way their captain had spoken, she had assumed they had all agreed on this.</p><p>Eventually, it is Rocket who lets out a snort halfway between amused and incredulous. “D’ast, Quill, you really ended up findin’ our lil’ lost lamb, eh?” he says, causing Drax to look around in confusion.</p><p>“I see no Terran mammal, except for Quill.”</p><p>“It’s an expression, you moron. Jus’ means we got her back,” the raccoon explains, and a note of happiness slips into the last few words.</p><p>“I am Groot,” the teenage tree comments, words indecipherable to Gamora, who nevertheless detects a hint of well-hidden enthusiasm.</p><p>Drax nods solemnly in agreement. “It is a joyous occasion, to reunite with a friend and a fellow warrior. I shall be glad to fight by your side again.”</p><p>A broad smile brightens Peter’s expression, as he looks warmly from the team to Gamora, in what she imagines is meant to be an encouraging way. Her eyes survey the room, sweeping over the unfamiliar but welcoming faces and finding Nebula, whose lips seem to stretch the slightest bit. Enough for Gamora to hope she has made the right choice.</p><p>She looks back to Peter and gives a small nod, as he beams at her.</p><p> </p><p>In the following weeks, Gamora is almost invisible.</p><p>She keeps to the sidelines, silent and still as a statue, attentively observing the rest of the Guardians. She studies their dynamics, baffled by how they can be at each other’s throat one minute and ready to give their lives for the team the very next. She witnesses Peter and Rocket arguing over bomb making and piloting rights, Mantis and Drax struggling with the subtleties of language and social interaction, Groot acting like a moody teenager slowly entering adulthood.</p><p>Nebula alone seems familiar to her, but even that is a difficult and strained relationship which requires an exhausting amount of effort to rebuild. Decades of being pitted against each other cannot be easily forgotten, and neither one of them can count among their strengths communicating their emotions in a clear and effective way.</p><p>Most of the time, Gamora’s presence is just that: an additional person in the room as the Guardians work on the ship, chat over their shared meals, strategize for the next plan or relax. She is not used to so many people around her, to so much constant noise filling every second of everyday, so much so that sometimes simply not shutting everyone off is the most she can do. Yet she tries. She resists the urge to scoff at the well-meaning silliness and to yell to put an end to pointless fights, doing her best to accept the team’s foreign lifestyle.</p><p>It is only when the following mission arrives that she truly starts participating.</p><p>The desertic planet where they land hosts a venomous species that Quill describes as weirdly similar to Terran scorpions, if one overlooks the second sting, their impressive size and their ability to electrocute any living creature. The Guardians discover the indigenous fauna in what is possibly the worst way, as they find themselves rapidly surrounded. Blasters and knives and tangling branches make quick work of the alien monsters, offering Gamora a chance to finally be useful. Splattered in gooey purple fluids, she feels in her element, forgetting all the uncertainty of her new life and simply applying her well-honed skills.</p><p>Except this time, she observes, it is to aid others.</p><p>As the success of the brief fight sparks laughter and jokes among the team, she cannot help but notice that their smiles extend to include her as well.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After that event, Gamora slowly starts adjusting to the rest of the crew. Her acceptance is mostly conveyed through her willingness to fight alongside them, and, later on, to help concoct actual viable tactics during their planning sessions, which she does not consider adequately effective.</p>
<p>Not without difficulty, she cautiously allows for some interaction. She discovers that Drax tends to his weapons with the same care she reserves for hers, and they develop a habit of polishing their swords together at the end of the day, immersed in a silence that gradually begins to feel comfortable and easy. After Mantis watched in awe her performance against the giant scorpions and insisted on fighting lessons, she relents and sharing a few tips ends up becoming training sessions, provided the empath dutifully wears gloves. When Rocket pulls apart the ship only to put it back together with some unforeseen enhancement, she listens to his humming turning to colorful invectives and soon enough finds herself offering a helping hand. One day, she stumbles upon Groot wrestling with the ship’s controls, as he tries not to crash it against the docking station. Despite the language barrier, it does not take her long to understand that in a fit of teenage recklessness he is trying to learn how to pilot as the others are not around, and almost without realizing it she is at his side, showing him how to maneuver. Her relationship with Nebula is the one she is most dedicated to, as she makes a conscious effort to talk, actually talk, to her sister. It is not easy, yet the hope that everything, from digging into their childhood to adjusting to this new life, will be worth it keeps Gamora going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Somewhat unexpectedly, though, their captain is the one she has the most difficulty dealing with. Since her arrival, the others have had an immediate understanding of her need for isolation. Maybe it is instinct, or maybe having already gotten used to Nebula has given them a hint, but the team rarely disturbs her when she decides to quietly keep to the periphery of any group interaction.</p>
<p>Quill, on the other hand, seems to be constantly pestering her. He tries to rope her into any and every conversation, disrupts her thoughts and bothers her with any excuse. At first Gamora considers it another one of his annoying quirks, until she notices that, while he definitely is chatty, he seems to become unbearably talkative, and often incoherent, around her. His gaze rests on her longer when he thinks she is not looking, with a soft expression she can hardly understand.</p>
<p>Whatever the reason for his constant presence, Gamora’s patience wears thin. She is silently eating at the shared table early in the morning, as everyone is still asleep, when Quill appears, his hair messy, stretching and yawning before seeing her and flashing a bright smile.</p>
<p>“’Morning,” he greets, voice still a bit groggy.</p>
<p>Gamora answers with a noncommittal sound, shifting her attention back to the holopad.</p>
<p>Around her, Quill seems unable to prepare his breakfast without searching every shelf of the common area. He finds a spoon in a crate with Rocket’s tools and sets it on a counter, reaches for the cereal and realizes he has no bowl, gets up to fetch the milk and forgets where the spoon is, returns to his seat and figures he still needs a bowl, finds one only to spill the milk, stands back up to grab some towels–</p>
<p>“Would you stop?” Gamora asks with a loud exhale, glaring at the line she has been reading for the fourth time.</p>
<p>“Uh, sorry,” he says, a little sheepish. He finally sits down and stirs the contents of the bowl, then continues cheerfully “So, whatcha readin’?”</p>
<p>“Xandarian news,” she replies in a clipped tone.</p>
<p>“Uh-uh. I was thinkin’, you know, we should go check on them,” he says between mouthfuls of bright blue cereal. “Make sure the Nova Corps are still holdin’ the fort, rig–”</p>
<p>“I’m trying to read,” Gamora interrupts, irritation radiating from her.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, right.” A few loud crunches fill the temporary silence. “So, not very chatty in the morning, uh?”</p>
<p>Gamora glares at him, wondering if his pathological need to talk makes him unable to eat quietly or if he is really that thick. “Are you trying to get murdered?” she hisses.</p>
<p>He stares at her for a second, then blinks and laughs wholeheartedly. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I’ll zip it.”</p>
<p>He mimics locking his mouth and throwing away the key and Gamora returns to the holopad. She finally reaches the end of the sentence, swipes her finger to change the page and-</p>
<p>“You know what, I don’t get it,” his tone has lost some of his easiness. Gamora rolls her eyes and sets the news aside, focusing on Quill. “Why did you agree to return if you are always by yourself?”</p>
<p>She frowns slightly, surprised. “I am not.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, maybe, but you want to be. There are days you avoid everyone. I mean, we’re your teammates.”</p>
<p>Gamora feels the corners of her lips tug down. “Not really.” Receiving a confused and inquisitive look, she continues. “You are a team. I fee– I am apart from all of you,” she says with a definitive air, like it is an immutable truth.</p>
<p>Quill smiles softly. “Hey, we’re all a bunch of losers, right?”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” She asks, a tinge of indignation in her tone.</p>
<p>“Oh, right,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Uhm, I made this really cool speech once– probably shoulda written it down… It’s just, we all lost stuff, you know, but still, we found each other, I guess… I mean…” He looks flustered under Gamora’s scrutinizing gaze. Taking a deep breath, he starts again.</p>
<p>“We know what it’s like to lose important people. We’ve all been through that, and it sucks. But we managed to build something here, as a team. And then–” a sigh escapes him, as he momentarily closes his eyes. “Then we lost you.”</p>
<p>His gaze pins her in place, as something dark swims beyond his pupils, a memory, inconceivably horrifying and heartbreakingly painful. For a second, he seems at loss for words. He swallows hard and continues.</p>
<p> “I guess adjusting can be hard, on both parts. We’re loud and messy and I guess we can be a bit much,” he says, cracking a small smile in hopes to lighten the mood. “But you’re our teammate. Yeah, maybe when you arrived from your timeline you didn’t know it, but still, you’re part of this family.”</p>
<p>Gamora’s instinctive reaction to such words is cynical skepticism. Her family cannot be replaced, and those who have tried have done so to manipulate her. She has learned long ago that she is alone, she does not belong.</p>
<p>Yet, as Peter is looking at her with tender confidence, it is almost easy to believe that maybe, just this once, his trust can be enough for both of them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitting quietly in the piloting area, Gamora must admit this new life of hers has some unexpected perks.</p>
<p>The vast expanse of space stretches in front of her, painted with colorful gas clouds and sprinkled with luminous dots to compose an awe-inspiring canvas, and while she certainly has seen similar views before, she has never quite had the chance to enjoy them. Beauty needs a certain amount of serenity to be appreciated and an assassin’s life does not lend itself to such luxury. Yet here, in the relative security of a spaceship shared with people whose priorities do not include killing her, she can afford a little indulgence.</p>
<p>A few steps resonate on the metal behind her and she does not need to turn around to know who it is.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Peter says, a touch quieter than usual, as if not to disturb the night. Gamora glances briefly at him in acknowledgement, before returning her attention to the scenery outside.</p>
<p>He hesitates for a moment, then takes the seat next to hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices he is fiddling with something between his fingers. He opens his mouth only to close it, then swallows and begins again.</p>
<p>“I’ve got something for you,” he blurts out and Gamora blinks at him. He stretches out his hand, offering the small data unit he was playing with.</p>
<p>“It’s not much,” he continues, almost apologetic, as she reaches to grab the device and stares at it. “We tried our best, but I guess it’s mostly just bits and pieces and I dunno if it makes much sense, or if it’s even something you…”</p>
<p>Gamora’s eyes shifting back up to him stop his blabbering.</p>
<p>“Just check it out?” He says, voice a little hoarse, with a shrug of his shoulder and the tiniest smile, before standing up and leaving her to the data unit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Gamora returns to the privacy of her quarters and connects it to the holopad, she discovers several video files tagged with alphanumeric strings that offer no indication about their content. She taps the first one to open it and for a second she squints at the poor image quality, before gasping.</p>
<p>On the screen she is one of Xandar’s sleek plazas, crowded and inundated by daylight. She is pushing Rocket aside to hack at a full-grown Flora Colossus with her sword, only to get electrocuted by Quill as he emerges from a bag and clumsily tries to run away.</p>
<p>Next the camera angle changes, and she is in a dimly lit metal corridor, wearing a yellow prison uniform from Kyln. Drax holds her by the throat, knife hovering midair, yet not striking, as he listens to Peter talk and finally lets her drop to the ground.</p>
<p>Another change and in a Knowhere casino Rocket and Groot and Drax fight while she and Quill pull them apart. In the next clip, the three of them threaten a group of Ravagers with a hadron enforcer – whatever that is – to save the Terran and her.</p>
<p>Except it is not her. She has not experienced any of this and it feels eerily incongruous to watch this alternative version of herself, an extradimensional clone that she cannot connect with, but that so clearly lived and breathed and just <em>existed</em> in a way which she has not been thinking about and that she can barely accept as real even now, despite the evidence.</p>
<p>She considers shutting down the holopad and forgetting about the data unit, but curiosity seems to exert a gravitational pull too strong to resist. On the screen, one short video follows the next. The image quality, low despite the apparent efforts to enhance it, the often-inaudible conversations and the unusual camera angles betray the origin of most footage, from security cameras on ships and planets across half the known solar systems, bar for a few straight from Nebula’s memory unit. They are small snippets, worthless by themselves, but together they become surprisingly meaningful.</p>
<p>Hypnotized, Gamora watches as she is about to die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy and then miraculously does not, time and time again.</p>
<p>One clip after the other, she pieces together their adventures, what she was meant to live before being plucked from her timeline and experiencing such a different encounter with the Guardians.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the screen turns black after the last video file, she keeps staring at her reflection, unblinking, for a short eternity. To actually consider the life of her alternative self, or rather an alternative life for herself, is too much to process. She feels overwhelmed and empty at the same time, as if all her emotions, in a rush to escape and become manifest, had trapped themselves in a bottleneck.</p>
<p>Eventually, she emerges from the trance-like state. With slow and precise movements, she disconnects the data unit. She carefully holds it between two fingers and stares at it as if it were a foreign object, pondering what to do with it.</p>
<p>It is unsettling to see this version of herself, of who she was supposed to be. Watching her fighting against and then alongside this group of misfits, Gamora understands how she could gradually find a family in them. But rationally comprehending the emotional journey that her alternate self was able to go through is not in any way comparable to living it and these files cannot jog memories she has not formed, nor emotions she has not felt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet, she cannot help but wonder. Perhaps, somehow, here among the most improbable ‘bunch of losers’, she can find some measure of what her other version had. Perhaps, she has a chance at happiness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something shifts in Gamora and, almost without realizing it, that is when she starts trying. It is a long and extenuating process of constantly readjusting and focusing her efforts on the unprecedented companionship, learning to understand all of the Guardians, some in a more literal sense and others less.</p>
<p>Groot’s language sounds to her like an intelligible mystery, to which only the slightest voice inflection conveys a modicum of meaning. Yet, his preference for sarcastic comments and deadpan remarks leaves Gamora clinging to the others’ reactions during any conversation including him. With Drax and Mantis, on the other hand, the issue is more about attempting to be understood, avoiding any metaphorical expressions or reliance on common social norms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The truly difficult part, however, comes when she finally manages to communicate with the rest of the team, as bit by bit she uncovers the horrors of their past lives.</p>
<p>When Rocket stomps out of the bathroom in a towel, yelling at Quill because he has used up all the hot water, Gamora’s gaze catches on the scars on his back before she quickly averts her eyes. Noticing and already irked, he redirects his shouting towards her, daring her to call him a monster, as the others try to defuse the situation. Only later, they cross each other in the kitchen and an awkward mutual apology turns into the gruesome tale of the experimentations inflicted upon the raccoon. Gamora knows what it means to have her own body turned against herself, to be at the mercy of pitiless masters. She listens somberly as Rocket relives the tortures that have made him who he is, until he stops talking, eyes glazed, and she feels a little closer to him.</p>
<p>Drax shares details about Ovette and their daughter during the most mundane task. He absentmindedly comments on how a certain knife was gifted to him by his wife, or how Kamaria especially liked a particular recipe of his. There is a soft, longing note in his voice that Gamora does not expect from the Destroyer, and when he lovingly talks about them, she cannot help the painful memory of her own slaughtered family.</p>
<p>Even Nebula’s past is now a mystery to Gamora. Her sister has experienced enough in the recent years to change and grow significantly, finding enough strength to rebel against Thanos, to fight for her freedom and for the entire universe. Discovering each step of the path that has led her there takes several difficult conversations, filled with strained silences bursting with guilt and regret.</p>
<p>All of the Guardians, however, tell Gamora about the adventures that they have supposedly shared with her, or rather, with the other version of her. Their inside jokes and tendency to ramble turns many chats into strolls down the memory lane and as Gamora hears their stories, the video files on the data unit acquire more and more meaning. Recklessness and trust and danger and friendship become threads in a delicate tapestry, and she listens to their tales with a weight on her chest, small and unidentified but unquestionably there, despite her efforts to ignore it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Obviously, the most talkative one is Quill. Gamora has the impression that for him every detail sparks a recollection, one he can hardly avoid telling her. When he notices a particularly smooth, almost tender interaction between her and Nebula, he comments on how the whole team got in trouble with the Sovereign to rescue her sister, remembering mid-tale that the dispute was actually Rocket’s fault. She calls an enemy an honorless thief and he chuckles about how she used the same epithet for him. A trip to Xandar to pawn off some items to a certain Broker spurs the tale of how they – he and her other self – met.</p>
<p>During a rough mission on a planet halfway between an orphanage and an illegal child labor market, Peter selflessly launches in front of a falling pillar to save a young, trembling boy. His protective suit absorbs most of the hit, but he still ends up on the infirmary table, with Gamora stitching him up due to the Guardians’ undemocratic decision process.</p>
<p>“Ow!”</p>
<p>“I have almost finished. It would not hurt if you did not move so much.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t move so much if it didn’t hur–ow!”</p>
<p>“There,” Gamora says, tying the thread and leaning back.</p>
<p>Peter twists trying to look at the wound, then starts carefully rolling down his sleeve.</p>
<p>Gamora observes him absentmindedly, before he looks up and asks “What?”</p>
<p>She considers for a second. “That was quite… heroic.”</p>
<p>A lopsided smile plays on his lips, tinged with melancholy. “Nah. Not the most heroic thing I’ve done,” he shrugs.</p>
<p>“And what would that be?”</p>
<p>He shifts a little, not completely at ease. “Remember when… We told you about the first infinity stone, right? The one Ronan wanted?”</p>
<p>Gamora nods. She has been told the adventure of how they all met when she emerged from her room after perusing the data unit, head spinning with questions and heart more in disarray that she liked to admit.</p>
<p>“Well, we got in a chase,” Peter continues. “Nebula wanted the stone and – and blew up your pod.”</p>
<p>Gamora’s gaze is fixed on him. She has been told that, when Drax had drunkenly summoned Ronan, they had ended up with the Ravagers, but nobody has bothered with the details.</p>
<p>“She blew me up?” she asks, a tiny crease between the silver markings above her eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah… Well, no, I mean, just the pod, you – you kinda floated out there… in space.” Peter pauses for a moment, dropping his gaze before looking back up at her, earnestly. “I gave you my mask. I just – I couldn’t let you die.”</p>
<p>The emotion on his face, tender and pleading and anguished, pulls at her heart in a way she did not expect. For the first time, she understands how she could have fallen for him, in a parallel life. A life in which these are not tales recounted by someone else, but her own memories and feelings. Not this life.</p>
<p>“Oh,” is all she manages to say, in a small voice so unlike her own.</p>
<p>Peter’s chest rises and falls with a quiet sigh. A second later, his expression shifts, but the smile that stretches on his mouth still betrays a bitter sorrow, the softness in his eyes still speaks of the depth of his affection.</p>
<p>“Anyway, that was pretty heroic, if I do say so myself,” he comments, trying to lighten the situation. “Which, I mean, I did. You didn’t seem to agree, all focused on the orb and everything, but still. I guess the infinity stone just meant more to you than my noble self-sacrifice…”</p>
<p>He keeps rambling in an exaggerated, humorous tone, and Gamora, seeing right through him, can only offer a small compassionate smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes a lot of time and a lot of patience from everybody. Each of the Guardians tries to understand how they can fit into Gamora’s life and she into theirs. Her progress is slow, as far from linear as one can imagine. She often finds herself struggling to comprehend a discussion, or vainly hoping for some quiet while the others are being the usual rambunctious bunch. Luckily, Gamora has hardly ever felt the compelling need to belong. But then again, she has never been in the company of people who did not want to murder her at the first opportunity, so it is a challenge for her to deal with feeling lonely even when surrounded by others, miserable and guilty at her apparent incapacity to adjust to the situation. After all, the other version of her had managed to find a home among the Guardians, therefore she should be able to do the same. And yet, there are times when such goal seems utterly unattainable.</p><p>The others, to be fair, do their best to include her. Rocket sternly scolds Groot whenever he shows attitude towards her, which she can scarcely recognize, honestly. Drax attempts to entice her into hunting a meal every once in a while, yet it is hard to bond when you are on opposite sides of a forest clearing waiting in silence for a hujah. Mantis offers to help ease her discomfort with her empath abilities, however that would require a level of trust that Gamora has never allowed herself to achieve with anyone.</p><p> </p><p>Peter seems to lead them by example, as his efforts are significantly more abundant.</p><p>He makes a point of including Gamora in every mission and asking for her input on strategic details. During the executive phase, he is on the lookout for everybody, as a good leader should, but she notices him checking on her more often. While he knows she can fight and take care of herself, Gamora suspects that he is also keenly aware that she is the one less attuned to the others, less integrated into the team. She also speculates that his attention might not solely be due to the fact this makes her more of a liability.</p><p>Indeed, he is the same goofy, occasionally slightly conceited fool with everyone, but when he smiles at her his eyes shine a little brighter and his gaze lingers a moment longer. Somehow, he seems to always be around her, a noisy, cheerful presence she cannot quite shake.</p><p> </p><p>It has been a long day, one of those frustrating ones that remind her that being around other people can be vexing work for her. The bickering, the misunderstandings, the sheer effort of just trying has chipped away at her minute by minute and when the crew settles in for the night, leaving her to the first shift, some of the tension lifts from her shoulders.</p><p>Appreciating the silent humming of the motors, finally no longer obscured by shouting and music and chattering, she leans against the great window in the piloting area. She recognizes a few star systems, confirming their route is correct, and proceeds to calculate their estimated time of arrival, checking that they are on schedule for the appointment with their contact.</p><p>“Hey, Gam– Ow!” She feels a hand touching her shoulder and instinctively grabs and twists it, unsheathes a knife from her belt and shoves the offender against a wall.</p><p>Blade pressing against his throat, Peter chuckles.</p><p>Gamora blinks in stupor before frowning at him. “You mock me, Quill?” She asks, indignant. “Do you believe you can match my fighting skills?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t dare to try,” he says, fingers pressing lightly on the knife to push it away. Gamora keeps it in place. “It’s just – It reminded me of another time you threatened to slit my throat,” he explains, and there it is again, that tender smile that futilely hides the melancholy.</p><p>“What had you done to deserve it?” Gamora asks, matter-of-factly.</p><p>Peter’s smile turns even softer, an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. His eyes on hers are unapologetically longing. “I tried to kiss you.”</p><p>It is a simple, straightforward answer. The raw honesty of it might have made someone else blush and lower their gaze, but not Gamora. Expression inscrutable, she stares at him for another moment, then focuses on the blade, sheathing it again before turning back to her calculations.</p><p>Behind her, she hears a quiet sigh, then a pause and the noise of boots on metal as Peter walks away.</p><p>Only when the echo of the last footstep has faded does she let herself exhale.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Painstakingly slowly, yet undeniably, Gamora progresses. Without her truly realizing it, something changes in the way she considers the situation, as she begins to think of it as less and less temporary. She settles in, somehow carving a spot for herself in the intricate emotional machinery surrounding her.</p><p>Her efforts to understand the other Guardians and become part of the team begin to yield fruit, first, as could be expected, on the battlefield. Her fighting style gradually adapts to take the others into account, to work with the rest of the crew instead of despite them. She easily incorporates defending them into her priorities, while needing longer to allow them to return the favor when she leaves an opening for the enemy. Trust, after all, is mostly a subconscious matter, and it takes some time to reverse years spent convincing yourself that you cannot count on anyone else. However, she intentionally tries to rely on the rest of the team more and more. She becomes used to Rocket’s rapid fire and Groot’s versatile abilities, to Drax’s reckless courage and Mantis’ eagerness to help. She even adjusts to Quill’s improvisation skills, which seem to perfectly encapsulate how he handles life.</p><p>Indeed, there is an impulsiveness to him that would almost be endearing, if it did not put them in danger half the time. But then again, it seems that most of the team is responsible for risking the others’ lives at any given moment, so she supposes that blaming Peter exclusively would be quite unfair.</p><p> </p><p>His spontaneity, in fact, also provides them all with countless bonding moments. More than once, a simple meal has been enlivened by one of his Terran tales, stories of unlikely heroes aided by talking cars or saving cities with the power of music. The same music to which he constantly hums along, coming out from the tiny metal device he plugs into his ears or, more often than not, playing in the common areas as a constant background. He seems to know the words to every song, to have tales and memories for each of them, happily sharing them with the rest of the crew. His playful singing is often accompanied by silly moves and Gamora can hardly suppress her laughter.</p><p>When a song he particularly likes echoes through the ship’s intercom, Peter offers her his hand.</p><p>“What?” She asks, looking at it and then at him without understanding.</p><p>Peter smiles, simple and honest. “Dance with me.”</p><p>Gamora cannot help but scoff. Still holding out his hand, he does not seem to grasp the implicit refusal. “No.”</p><p>Peter keeps looking at her, a nostalgic glimmer softening his eyes. “You danced with me once, you know?”</p><p>“I doubt it,” she replies, with the flicker of a smile at how ridiculous the mere idea sounds.</p><p>“Mm-mmm,” he nods. “Threatened to kill me if I told anyone.”</p><p>“That does sound like me,” she admits, her tone slightly amused.</p><p>Peter chuckles. “Sam Cooke was on,” he reminisces, his gaze on her, yet not completely focused. “Drax’d said you were not a dancer, but man, was he wrong.” His tender smile broadens at the memory, before fading as a crease appears on his brow. “But then we got into that stupid fight…”</p><p>“What fight?” Gamora asks, mildly curious at the unexpected turn of events.</p><p>Her question seems to return him to the present, and Peter’s jaw clenches for a moment. “It – it was nothing, I was being a moron.” Only Gamora’s inquisitive look compels him onward. Raking his fingers through his hair with a sigh, he continues. “After Mantis had – said stuff, I… I asked you about the – the unspoken thing between us.”</p><p>From the definitive way he ends the sentence, Gamora assumes that it should mean something to her. But the confusion in her tone is more than genuine when she asks, “What unspoken thing?”</p><p>A bitter snort escapes Peter. “Exactly.” Again, it is only the expression on her face that keeps him talking. “That’s just what you said then. I – I did a bad job of trying to explain it and it became a shouting match and… just a whole mess.” Hanging his head, Peter lets out a low breath.</p><p>Gamora might let the conversation drop, sparing him any more pain. For a moment, she considers not asking, suspecting that she might know the answer, yet a need for certainty voices her question. “What were you trying to explain?”</p><p>Peter’s gaze fixes on her again, and his eyes hold the pain of a man who has lost everything. When he replies, his voice is hoarse but unwavering. “That I love you.”</p><p>Her eyes lose some of their usual fiery hardness, her tone sounds a little softer as she says, “Why would one leave <em>that</em> unspoken?”</p><p>Peter glances away, fidgeting. Gamora can see him putting up his façade again, all humor and weird Terran references to spin stories around her until she is too disoriented for coherent rebuttals. Yet, he closes his eyes and swallows hard, almost steadying himself.</p><p>“’Cause –” his voice cracks. He looks up at her and starts again, “Because people get scared. You truly don’t wanna lose your best friend...”</p><p>Gamora can see the yearning in his expression, the regret, the anguish, as he thinks of past mistakes and how the situation might have been different, how he might have enjoyed years, maybe decades, maybe a whole life with the woman he loved, if only he had told her.</p><p>A pang of pity makes Gamora’s chest feel constricted as Peter crumbles, hopeless, lost, utterly defeated.</p><p>Tentatively, she reaches out, stretches her fingers and lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. When Peter’s gaze finds hers, his eyes shine with more than tears of grief.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the late update!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes even more time and even more patience. And yet, almost imperceptibly, things change.</p><p>They are travelling to their next client, an eccentric scientist on a secluded planet, which requires crossing half the galaxy in an uneventful if rather safe journey. For once, Peter has let Rocket pilot the Benatar, avoiding the boring task in favor of selecting – and performing – an appropriate soundtrack. As has recently become usual, navigation is Gamora’s responsibility. Nebula is entertaining herself by fixing some circuits on her wrist, Drax is yawning profusely, while Mantis’ frequent blinking betrays her efforts to stay awake. Legs swinging from the armrest, Groot is playing with a noisy game, which seems to choose precisely this moment to turn off. An incredulous sound, followed by a groan when he checks on the batteries, and the teenager throws the console away. He moves around in his seat, throwing his head back in annoyance, exhaling loudly.</p><p>“I am Groooooot. I am Groot?”</p><p>“I know. Almost, only three more jumps,” Gamora replies.</p><p>The whole crew turns to look at her, incredulity widening their eyes and slackening their jaws. It takes her a moment to realize what has happened, then a small smile appears on her lips.</p><p>“I…am Groot?” The Flora Colossus asks.</p><p>“I do,” she answers, trying to keep her voice even, yet with a sparkle in her eyes. Finally, she understands him, finally, she has a definite sign that she is improving in adapting to the Guardians. Relief and satisfaction and hope mingle, filling her in a way she did not expect.</p><p>The others simply return to their tasks, following Gamora’s lead in reacting calmly and composedly, but each of them cannot help but grin at what they know is an important success for her and a step towards getting their teammate back.</p><p> </p><p>From then on, Gamora’s confidence increases, as she becomes more and more at ease with the Guardians.</p><p>She understands that all this time she was still keeping a layer of distance between them, striving for a respectful but very careful relationship. With much difficulty, she decides to let go of her detachment, to allow herself to be open to friendship. It does not come natural to her. Indeed, it is quite the opposite of what her instincts and a whole life as a solitary assassin tell her: experience has taught her countless times that openness and affection are no more than a vulnerability for enemies to exploit. But her life has changed and, as she looks at Nebula, she knows that she can change as well.</p><p>She starts with small gestures.</p><p>Giving Rocket a prosthetic arm she finds in a pawn shop costs her nothing, but the genuine, unbridled laughter she hears in return provides her with unanticipated happiness. Cooking one of Drax’s recipes is little effort compared to his delighted expression when she offers him a bowl of soup. His smile turns into a grimace of disgust as he tastes her concoction, but he promises to teach her and spends the evening reminiscing about his homelife. When Mantis manages to easily overcome an enemy by making him sleep with just the touch of a finger, Gamora’s compliments are plentiful and sincere, causing the empath to glow with pride.</p><p> </p><p>The moment of truth, however, arrives a few days later at dinner, when Nebula announces that she intends to find a ship for herself and set off alone. Under her brusque tone, the Guardians hear a hint of something, which might not quite be fondness, but speaks of gratefulness and acceptance. Peter says that having her in the crew has been ‘just the right amount of scary’ and blabbers on about how she somehow refrained from acting on her threats, until Rocket cuts him off to offer a parting gift on behalf of the whole team, a cybernetic hand he has ‘improved’, as he says with a wink.</p><p>Only afterwards Gamora finds enough privacy to talk to her sister. Nebula’s gaze meets hers in a silent inquiry, and Gamora swallows a little harder than usual.</p><p>“You are staying.” It is not a question; Nebula already knows what her intentions are.</p><p>“I must try. There might be… something for me here,” Gamora tries to explain, although it is hard to express what might scarcely be more than faith, a mere hint of a sensation she cannot quite pinpoint.</p><p>Awkwardly, Nebula’s arms wrap around her. “I hope you find it.”</p><p>Gamora’s stupor only lasts a second, before she reciprocates the hug. “Good luck, Nebula. You will always be my sister.”</p><p>She departs the following day, as they arrive on a merchant planet bustling with activity. Gamora watches her sister walk away decidedly, hesitating just a moment then turning a second before disappearing from view. She is confident that Nebula will find what she is looking for, and that she understands. The decision has been far from easy from an emotional point of view, but there is hardly any doubt in Gamora’s mind that she is supposed to stay. While her sister needs time on her own, she can respect her choice and keep working at her relationship with the Guardians. Somehow, she has the strange impression that they need her close more than Nebula does at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Their planetary stop barely lasts a few hours. By nightfall, the Benatar is already half a dozen jumps away, headed towards the next adventure. Most of the crew has retired to their quarters, either preparing to rest or already fast asleep, while Gamora is still in the piloting area, standing by the screens near the windows to verify their route once again.</p><p>“Double checking before bed?” Peter’s voice resonates over the ever-present music filling the cabin as he comes closer to look over her shoulder.</p><p>She nods without turning around. “We seem to be on track,” she replies, fingers tracing their course on the map. “We should arrive in the morning.”</p><p>Peter’s unusual quietness makes her turn around only to find him staring at her, eyes wide. For a second she wonders why he appears so stunned, then registers her latest action. Subconsciously, her hand has come to rest on his, waiting open in the usual invitation to dance which she has never accepted – until now. Surprise washes over Gamora, but Peter’s eyes find hers and he offers a wide smile.</p><p>Gently, he takes her other hand and guides it to his shoulder, before carefully placing his on her waist and starting to move to the rhythm. Gamora follows, cautiously at first, extremely aware of her own body and where it meets Peter’s warm touch, skin tingling under his fingers. Her attention shifts from the music to his content expression, to his intense gaze, and she takes an inconspicuous deep breath to let go of the tension before focusing on her movements. It is not too different from when they fight a common enemy, after all: the need to consider her companion’s proximity, to anticipate his actions, to trust him blindly.</p><p>As they sway slowly, Peter’s expression becomes thoughtful.</p><p>“You know…”</p><p>Gamora waits for him to continue, before prompting. “What?”</p><p>He ponders for a second, then says, “I kinda thought you’d follow Nebula.” Her eyebrows rise slightly, and he hastily adds “Not that we don’t want you here, of course!”</p><p>She feels Peter’s grip tighten almost imperceptibly and supposes it is a subconscious reaction at the idea of pushing her away. Surprisingly enough, she is not bothered by it. “My sister needed time by herself.”</p><p>A small crease of confusion appears on Peter’s brow. “She didn’t want you to go with her?”</p><p>“She might have liked that,” Gamora answers diplomatically. “I thought it’d be best for me to continue perfecting those areas that require strengthening.”</p><p>“So you <em>decided</em> to stick with us?” He spins her out, light and confident.</p><p>“You ask many questions, Quill.” Her voice is haughty, but the implied threat fools no one. </p><p>With a gentle tug he pulls her back towards him, arms wrapped around her and a triumphant smirk on his face. “You care about us.”</p><p>“You’re insufferable, Peter.”</p><p>“Yeah, right.” The pure joy shining in his eyes is contagious and Gamora cannot help but smile back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Gamora first encountered the Guardians she had the definite impression that if they were still alive, it was by sheer luck. Compared to the strictly enforced hierarchical regime among Thanos’ militia, they lacked structure, organization and discipline. It has taken her time to notice how each of them has a precise place in the team, how, while they may squabble over insignificant issues, they still trust each other to do exactly what is needed when an emergency arises, which is more often than not.</p><p>Slowly, Gamora is finding her role as well. She adjusts to the others, much in the same way that they originally had: without any clear communication, but somewhat naturally, almost like adapting to an ecosystem. Her routine becomes punctuated by duties no one has assigned, rather that she has taken upon herself organically, noticing what was needed and taking care of it. Using her skills to aid the small community is a welcome change from the constant competition she had faced under Thanos. Her teammates value her abilities and express their appreciation: unused to praise, she is also surprised when they do not punish or exploit her flaws, often compensating her shortcomings with their own capacities.</p><p>Gradually, the Guardians find a new balance in their daily life, one that includes Gamora. She charges first into battle with Drax while trying to make him follow previously agreed-upon strategies, she focuses on navigating when Rocket pilots, she helps Quill establish their tasks and plan their next move.</p><p> </p><p>Which is precisely what the two of them are working on, once again the only ones still awake as the rest of the team has gone to sleep. Peter is leaning against the wall, lazily fiddling with one of his gizmos while listening to Gamora, who is standing by the window ramrod straight in her usual soldierly posture, flipping through possible missions on the holoscreen.</p><p>“The emperor of Laxidazia needs bodyguards for the prince’s interplanetary birthday tour,” she summarizes from a long formal request.</p><p>“Glorified babysitting,” Peter scoffs, without looking up.</p><p>“It pays an interesting amount of units.”</p><p>“Eh, still boring. What else?”</p><p>“Ancient artifact on Calurnia needs retrieving.”</p><p>“Been there, done that. Next?”</p><p>She rolls her eyes at his careless attitude, secretly amused, before moving on to the next offer. “Some arms dealer based on Knowhere–”</p><p>“No!” Peter exclaims, sudden and peremptory, jumping up and dropping the trinket.</p><p>“You have not even let me finish reading,” she replies, mildly irritated.</p><p>“I don’t care, you’re not going back to Knowhere!” he yells, taking a step forward.</p><p>Sheer instinct takes over at what she registers as a threat and Gamora shifts into a fighting stance, arms raised and ready to strike, raging fire dancing in her glare. “What did you just say?” she hisses, as dangerous as a poison.</p><p>Peter looks at her with chaos in his eyes, suddenly out of breath, desperate, scrambling for words, before barely uttering “Please…”.</p><p>She might not be well-versed in interpreting emotions, but his abrupt reaction is enough of a warning sign even for Gamora. Her arms fall at her side, as her anger dissipates in an instant, turning into concern. “Peter,” she asks, voice a little softer than usual. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>He draws a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. His hands are still trembling, and he vainly clenches them into fists to stop the tremors. “I– I can’t go to Knowhere. You can’t go back there.”</p><p>Part of her wants to yell at him to stop telling her what she can or cannot do, but she stifles it. “Why?”</p><p>His jaw clenches. Pain clouds his eyes and he screws them tightly before answering. “That’s where – where we last saw you.”</p><p>It takes Gamora a beat to understand what he means. Then all she seems able to say is a small “oh” that scarcely leaves her lips, as she tries to make sense of her emotions. They have not told her this story yet, and she is not sure she wants to know. She is not sure she can handle this.</p><p>A choked noise turns her attention back to Peter. “I thought that we were just in time, that we could get that damn stone,” he continues, almost to himself, and Gamora is paralyzed by his words. “But he tricked us, and he– he got <em>you</em>…” His voice breaks and he opens his eyes again, tortured and haunted and fixed on hers. “I’m sorry, I know I promised you that I wouldn’t let him, that I would sooner kill you–” Peter’s voice cracks again at the mere thought of what he is saying, but Gamora suddenly knows, she <em>knows</em> what he means, why her alternate self had asked him to execute her, who he was supposed to save her from.</p><p>All at once, she is too aware of her own heart, thundering in her chest hard enough to bruise her ribs. Bile rises in her throat without warning and she fights to swallow it. Her vision blurs, shifting in and out of focus as she blinks, losing awareness of her surroundings. “I… die at his hand?” she hears herself whisper.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I tried, I swear, Gamora, I’m so sorry–”</p><p>Peter’s heartbroken reply barely reaches her. Blood pounds in her ears and her chest is too tight for her to breathe. The room sways, she slides down to the floor. Her skin blazes, yet forceful shivers shake her. Her body is cold, numb, heavy as lead and she cannot move, cannot see. There is nothing but utter dread, all-consuming and violent, enveloping her like suffocating darkness, cruel and unconquerable and bone-chilling.</p><p>“But that doesn’t happen anymore,” she barely hears Peter say from an unfathomable distance. “Gamora, look at me.”</p><p>She cannot.</p><p>A far away sigh, and she feels his hands cup her cheeks, gentle and cool against her burning skin, delicately leading her face towards him. She blinks a few times, vision focusing again to find his reassuring gaze.</p><p>“It doesn’t happen,” Peter says slowly, and Gamora’s eyes widen slightly. He continues in a comforting voice “I promise. He’s gone, we made sure of that. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”</p><p>Peter hesitates for an instant, before wrapping his arms around her as he closes the distance between them and holds her tight. She tenses for a second, unfamiliar with such closeness.</p><p>“He can’t hurt you anymore, I promise,” he murmurs in her hair, and Gamora draws a shuddering breath, closing her eyes as tears spill down her cheeks.</p><p>For some unfathomable reason, she feels safer in Peter’s embrace.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The aftermath is awkward.</p><p>Gamora had cried herself to exhaustion, as months and months of emotional and psychological strain, bolstered by a lifetime of suffering, had finally taken their toll. She vaguely remembers Peter half-leading half-carrying her to bed, holding her until the violent sobs had subsided, stroking her hair soothingly as she fell asleep. Sensible relief mingles with inexplicable bitterness when she does not find him there in the morning as she awakens.</p><p>When she finally emerges from her room, much later than usual, she is collected and cold, keeping to herself as much as she had been in the very beginning. In some deep recess of her mind, she might know that she is furious at herself, for showing vulnerability and breaking her adamantine façade. Somewhere deeper, she might even understand that such reaction has been ingrained into her by decades of abuse, that her need for comfort is fundamentally human, not a punishable offense. Yet, in its destructive search for an outlet, her anger becomes directed at Peter.</p><p>Gamora evades him above all the Guardians, treating him with disdain and aloofness and, surprisingly enough, he does not push back. Indeed, he seems to consciously avoid bothering her, substituting his usually cheerful and talkative attitude with stolen glances in which sorrow mixes with something that Gamora cannot quite identify.</p><p>Her interactions with the rest of the team diminish significantly, dwindling to less than when she had first joined them. She stops navigating, strategizing and planning, abandoning her responsibilities until, eventually, even participating in missions is no longer a priority. Most of the time she keeps to herself in the relative quiet of her room, making every effort to occupy her mind rather than dwell on what her role is now.</p><p> </p><p>It is only when they arrive on Xandar, where Rocket hopes to have some loot appraised, that she finally decides.</p><p>Allowing herself no time to change her mind, Gamora gathers her few belongings and crosses the ship in a few strides, inconspicuous yet not truly hiding, because she owes no justifications. She leaves, without saying goodbye, without saying anything.</p><p>“Hey!” A familiar voice calls behind her as she is about to disappear from the ship’s view. “Gamora, wait up!”</p><p>With an exasperated exhale, she picks up her pace: the crowd parts for her menacing determination, closing again after circling her and offering some advantage. Behind her, the annoyed reactions of passersby betray her pursuer’s presence, as he ungracefully elbows his way towards her.</p><p>“Hey,” he says between pants, finally reaching her.</p><p>“Quill,” she acknowledges without turning. Her march accelerates almost imperceptibly.</p><p>“What’s going on?” He is practically jogging to keep up, bumping into people to look at her.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>A confused expression appears on his face. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Going,” she answers, turning left into a less crowded area.</p><p>His frown deepens. “Going where?”</p><p>“Away.” Another corner, into an empty street.</p><p>“What?!” Incredulity cuts his voice and the exclamation becomes a mere breath. “Why?”</p><p>Instead of answering, she hurries along.</p><p>“Can’t we talk about it?”</p><p>Her lips press together, tension filling every muscle of her body. She only wants to shake him off and be on her way.</p><p>“Gamora, please…” Desperation creeps in his tone. Instinctively, Peter grabs her. “At least stop–”</p><p>He immediately regrets it. In a single smooth motion, she twists his arm around and shoves him off, sending him into a wall. When he turns around groaning in pain, Gamora is pointing a dagger at him.</p><p>“Do <em>not</em> touch me,” she hisses with cold fury.</p><p>“Sorry,” Peter says, raising his hands half to signal his unwillingness to fight, half to put something between him and her threatening figure.</p><p>She glowers at him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I just… don’t go, please,” he begs, soft and earnest. “I know I screwed up, I should have listened to you and– I tried, really, I wanted to keep that promise– there’s no day I don’t think about it, about how everything could’ve been different if I– if I...”</p><p>She looks at him, slightly confused, but he keeps going. “Just– be angry at me, you can yell and beat the hell out of me– just, please… we can’t lose you again,” he implores, eyes focused on hers.</p><p>Their slightly erratic breath is the only sound for a few moments, as Gamora processes what he has said and what has been developing inside her for the past weeks. Finally, she lowers the blade.</p><p>“You took it all away.” Her voice is low but filled with a resentment she has only just understood.</p><p>“What?” Peter blinks in confusion.</p><p>“When your group of friends came for that stone, you obtained what you wanted, and I was stranded here. According to what you have all told me, I should have met you and we would have become teammates, friends, family.” She stares at him with a hard gaze before continuing. “You got to live that, to <em>earn</em> it, I never did.”</p><p>“You don’t have to earn anyth–” Peter starts to say before Gamora cuts him off.</p><p>“Yes, I do! I slaughtered my way through the galaxy almost since I can remember, what do you think I did to deserve people caring about me?”</p><p>“But then we didn’t do anything either,” he tries to rebut.</p><p>“Don’t be thick,” she responds with contempt. “There is no comparison. On your worst day, you are an interplanetary smuggler, a rightfully angry genetic experiment, a vengeful widower, a splintery tree and an emotional bug. I have brought countless deaths to the universe.”</p><p>Peter seems unable to reply and Gamora goes on, bitter. “You threw me into this mayhem and told me stories about who I was supposed to become, and I never will. You keep saying you lost me, but I lost you as well, before even knowing it. You took away my future, my chance to find a family in you.”</p><p>“But– we’re here, we’re your fam–”</p><p>“No, Peter, you’re not! You are…someone else’s family, not mine.” She shakes her head in defeat. “This is all sorts of messed up,” she says, almost to herself. “You all remember somebody whom I have not been yet, and I will never become that person. It is better if I just go,” she concludes. An inaudible sigh escapes her as she turns around and starts to walk away.</p><p>Once again, Peter’s hand closes around her wrist. This time, she does not hit him, does not even turn to look at him; she simply stops in her tracks, unable to face him when her emotions threaten to overwhelm her.</p><p>“We’re your family.”</p><p>Peter fingers slide to find hers, tugging a little like in a dance move, and Gamora turns around, eyes shining.</p><p>“We don’t care about what you’ve done, or what we’ve faced together, we care about who you are. You might have made some mistakes, like we have,” Gamora seems to open her mouth to interrupt, yet Peter presses on. “But in the end, you tried to make it right. You decided to help.”</p><p>He looks at her meaningfully and, despite herself, she must accept that he has a point.</p><p>“But I’m not–” She cannot find the right term. Saying ‘your Gamora’ just seems strange and out of place. She swallows and starts again, looking away dejectedly. “The experiences you all had, you all remember, were not with me.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. Just because this version of you hasn’t gone through the same stuff doesn’t mean we don’t know you. And there’s still enough adventure out there for you to get to know us.” Peter flashes her a reassuring smile, filled with enough hope to make Gamora want to believe that he is right.</p><p>“Please, don’t leave,” he asks softly. She gives a small nod and raises her gaze to find his. For a lingering moment, the universe disappears as she loses herself in his eyes, kind and bright and affectionate.</p><p>A beat, and Peter, realizing he is still holding onto her hand, lets go, grinning sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>They walk back side by side, in comfortable silence. The rest of the team has not come back yet, probably still busy with haggling for a bargain. Peter checks on their position, then starts inputting the coordinates for their next objective, unobtrusively offering Gamora a chance to put away what she had packed before the other Guardians may notice.</p><p>“Peter?” she calls, lingering in the doorway, and he looks up from the control panel. “No version of me blames you for what happened. You really shouldn’t either.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter tells himself he should be happy.</p><p>He knows he should, really. This is more than he could have ever hoped for, especially if he thinks back to the final battle against Thanos all those months ago. He remembers how the relief of seeing Gamora had quickly turned to confused anguish at her rejection, how fervent he had been in his search for her. The elation of welcoming her back had never truly faded, rather evolving into fascinated observation – and occasional guidance – as she finds her place among the Guardians. Encouraging her to open up to friendship, he sees her succeed every day and celebrates her constant victories over a life of solitude and mistrust.</p><p>He cherishes every moment he has Gamora to himself. When she had finally accepted his relentless invitations to dance, he had been as stunned as her. Embracing her as they bantered and swayed, he had felt the urge to push his luck and kiss her, allowing passion to overcome them. But he had also understood she was not ready, she might never be, and still he is grateful for simply being able to hold her close and see her happy.</p><p>Her smile lights up his universe – but her pain…</p><p>Having to tell Gamora about how Thanos had used her one last time had been atrocious. Peter had been shaken by her panic, even more alarming considering her normally cool demeanor in the face of danger. He had felt useless, incapable of helping in any way, uncertain of whether the comfort he desperately tried to offer was crossing her boundaries. Guilt had clawed at his insides as he promised that the titan could not hurt her anymore, for he knows that it is <em>his own</em> <em>fault</em> that Thanos had been able to harm her in the first place. When she had ignored him for weeks after the discovery, that same guilt had forbidden Peter from talking to her, as he did not deserve mercy for his broken promise. Only seeing her walk away had forced him to momentarily forget about blame and plead, not even for forgiveness, rather just for her presence in his life.</p><p>He had been afraid of losing her once and for all, but she had surprised him again.</p><p>Gamora is strong, stronger than even he could imagine, and she <em>cares</em>. She cares about justice and merit and compassion, about the Guardians and, maybe, about Peter. So she is trying again, retaking her role in the crew, not entirely a part of it, yet learning. And Peter is proud and grateful and…uneasy.</p><p> </p><p>He cannot quite understand what is unsettling him, what is stirring inside him, not allowing any contentment. Eventually, exasperated, he turns to Mantis, who places a hand on his arm and, eager to help, digs into his emotions. Affection, relief, loss, grief, guilt: the empath peels away the layers, as Peter sees his feelings reflected on her face, until she gasps softly and looks at him with pity.</p><p>“You feel responsible for hurting someone you love.”</p><p>He gives a nervous one-shoulder shrug, averting his gaze. “You know, after the whole Thanos disaster…”</p><p>“It is more than that,” she replies, shaking her head lightly, concentrating on trying to interpret the sensations. “It is something… complex and stratified, old but also more recent than you believe.”</p><p>Unable to determine the cause of his feelings, Mantis leaves him surprised and confused.</p><p> </p><p>It is only after much reflection that Peter ends up knocking on Gamora’s door.</p><p>“Hey,” he begins, without much of a plan. “Uhm, can we talk for a sec?”</p><p>She observes him, as if trying to guess his intentions, then lets him in wordlessly, sitting back on the bunk and returning to sharpening her sword.</p><p>A little unsure of what to do, Peter takes a deep breath, then blurts out “I just wanted to apologize.”</p><p>“I thought I made it clear that what happened isn’t your fault,” she says, matter-of-factly, attention still on the weapon.</p><p>“It’s not that – well, not entirely,” he replies. Scratching the nape of his neck, slightly embarrassed, he continues “I haven’t treated you fairly.”</p><p>Gamora finally raises her gaze to meet his. “You have welcomed me on your ship and given me the chance to join your crew, reunite with my sister and pay my dues.” Her eyes pierce into his. “It was more than fair, it was kind.”</p><p>For a moment, Peter is taken aback. Her words, already precious as she rarely expresses such direct appreciation, find further depth in the determined look on her face. He shakes himself and tries to get his thoughts back on track.</p><p>“I mean, what I’ve been expecting – I’ve been treating you like you’re…someone else,” he explains, at loss for words to describe the situation. “I’m sorry I haven’t let you be just you, I haven’t gotten to know…<em>this</em> you.”</p><p>Gamora stares at him in silence, attentive dark eyes studying him. Eventually, setting the sword aside, she stands and covers the distance between them in a few long strides.</p><p>“You’re haunted, Peter,” she says quietly, eyes boring into his. She is so close he can see a small crease between the silver scars on her brow, a hint of tender concern. “I am a ghost to you.”</p><p>Peter’s chest feels a little tighter, his breath comes a little more difficultly.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice suddenly hoarse. “Losing…my friend,” – he can’t bring himself to say ‘you’, or ‘Gamora’, or ‘the person I loved, I still love’ – “was… hard.” He knows it is a euphemism, and heartbreaking would be more accurate, but it does not matter now. “Sometimes it’s hard to see you and know that… it’s not the same.”</p><p>His gaze falls on the ground and, for a moment, grief engulfs him. It is a crushing weight, stinging and choking, a sadly familiar endless abyss from which no escape seems possible.</p><p>Featherlight fingers brush the back of his hand, returning him to the present.</p><p>“But having you here…” His eyes shine brightly as he looks into hers again. “It’s more than I could have wished for.” An earnest smile lights his face. “I’m glad you’re here.”</p><p>Gingerly, he places his hands on her arms and, when she seems to be comfortable with the contact, he slowly wraps her into a hug.</p><p>Gamora blinks, a little surprised, although not in an unpleasant way. It takes her a second to register the situation, then she wraps his arms around Peter as well, and relaxes in his embrace.</p><p>“I am, too, Peter,” she whispers softly against his neck.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Afterwards, it feels like a new beginning, one they did not know they needed.</p><p>Peter’s guilt waxes and wanes. It is a constant, slow, painstakingly rational process of reminding himself how to overcome it, but the repetition gradually finds a way into his subconscious and allows him to suffer a little less from the memories, and focus a little more on the present.</p><p> </p><p>Gamora is there, more and more in harmony with the team each passing day. In an unexpected show of trust, both in the Guardians and in herself, she starts truly opening up and cautiously revealing her thoughts and emotions. Sometimes, they are bits of her personality that the others may already know about, but which they accept gracefully and gratefully now that she spontaneously offers them.</p><p>At the same time, her efforts to understand them pay off more and more: she has become used to the rest of the team, fond of them, even, and has found a space for herself in their lives. A space that may partially overlap with the previous version of herself, yet which is something else as well, something <em>hers</em>.</p><p>She allows herself to admit how rewarding the missions can be, not only because of the thrill of adventure or the satisfaction of success, rather because she is glad to finally help those around her. Even though her methods can still be quite unorthodox, working for the good guys gives her a sense of purpose that she would not have imagined before. She does not fool herself, for she is well aware that no magnitude of selflessness could ever balance her misdeeds under Thanos. Yet, when gratitude shines in the eyes of those the Guardians help, it is easier to forget about the burden of her past.</p><p>And, of course, there are her teammates. Peter’s attitude seems to guide most of their interactions with Gamora, and now that he is taking time to get to know her again, at her own pace, the others seem to follow suit. Drax no longer assumes her preferences when cooking, nor does Rocket when selecting the best weapons for the mission. Mantis chats with her excitedly, while Groot finds subtle ways to bond without undermining his indifferent teenager façade. In their own sometimes clumsy, sometimes delightful way, each of them shows her they care until slowly, so much so that it is hard to pinpoint when it begins, she starts feeling less and less of a stranger among the rest of the team and a sense of belonging tints her relationship with them. Time – and considerable effort on both parts – allows them to turn into friends, almost into a family. The longer they spend together, the more past memories make way for recent adventures, until she is no longer somberly listening to someone reminiscing, and they are all laughing about the same exploits.</p><p>Despite still feeling self-conscious and vulnerable at the idea of showing it, she is happy.</p><p> </p><p>To her disbelief – or so she Gamora tells herself – it is Peter who contributes the most.</p><p>Maybe part of what made him insufferable was that he seemed to know so much about her, despite her reserved and composed demeanor. After all, her training had taught her that information is power, especially when it regards a potential enemy. Then again, perhaps here lies the heart of the matter. Maybe, what changed is the fact that Peter has proven himself trustworthy and caring enough to not be considered a potential enemy, but rather an ally, a <em>friend</em>.</p><p>He has shown concern, listened, offered comfort instead of dismissing her problems. And now, after realizing what could help foster a real connection between them, he has been ready to start anew, to accept her as her own person and discover her at a rhythm she is comfortable with. She has noticed him being around without being obnoxious, granting her space but making sure to always be available. His bright, unabashed smiles encourage her and celebrate her progress, but mostly just show how undeniably happy he is about her presence.</p><p>Chatting becomes simpler, something Gamora enjoys more and more. For Peter, sharing comes easier than for Gamora, yet she starts feeling comfortable enough to open up. A bittersweet smile graces her face as she recalls childhood memories, snippets of her life before Thanos. Occasionally, she tells him about her training as an assassin, voice empty and eyes staring at the stars without seeing them. Sometimes the conversation lingers, light and effortless, on the most mundane topics, like the antics of their teammates; others, it turns into something deep and meaningful, as they explore their search for purpose.</p><p>Almost without noticing, they enter a pattern of talking whenever one of them has a night shift. Sitting together on the steps in front of the great window of the flight deck, staring out at the multicolored swirling skies, hands just a few inches apart.</p><p> </p><p>“More cake?” Peter asks, his voice tearing her away from the galaxies shining outside.</p><p>A standard galactic year – about five hundred Terran days, according to their captain – has passed since Gamora has joined them and the Guardians have celebrated with a special dinner. Peter, blabbering enthusiastically about the first birthday of the team, had decorated a brightly colored cake with a single candle and insisted on a Terran tradition as they all squeezed together around the dessert. “Make a wish,” he said before they had all blown on it and Gamora, surrounded by the affection of her family, had not been able to think of a single desire.</p><p>She looks up at him, nodding with a small smile.</p><p>Peter hands her the plates before sitting on the same step as her and carefully setting down the remainder of the dessert between them.</p><p>“Want to do the honors?” he offers with a smirk and a flourish.</p><p>“My knives aren’t really the cake-cutting variety, you know.”</p><p>He shrugs and Gamora deftly unsheathes her dagger, cutting a large piece for Peter and a little one for herself. Before she can, he deliberately scoops the smaller portion into his plate with a meaningful look.</p><p>“You deserve it,” he explains when she glares at his gesture.</p><p>She puffs and opens her mouth, ready to retort but he cuts her off.</p><p>“And I can always get seconds,” he adds, moving the cake away and scooching closer to give her the other plate.</p><p>With a skeptical glance, she temporarily accepts his argument and bites into the dessert.</p><p>They eat in comfortable silence, appreciating Drax’s baking skills and admiring the view as their legs brush against each other.</p><p>“That was the worst part.”</p><p>The words are barely above a whisper, but she is sure Peter has heard. He turns to look at her and beyond the hint of inquisitiveness in his eyes, she already sees the concern. She swallows hard before continuing.</p><p>“All those years I spent on the Sanctuary, doing Thanos’s bidding… It wasn’t just the surgeries, the torture, the imposed murders… I felt I <em>deserved</em> it. That’s what really destroyed me, why I never tried to escape. With every action I became more and more despicable, more deserving of punishment. I felt evil.” She does not need to meet Peter’s gaze to guess his troubled, pitying expression. A sigh escapes her. “Maybe that’s part of the reason this was so difficult. It’s hard to accept what I don’t deserve–”</p><p>“Gamora–” he tries to interject, laying his hand on hers.</p><p>“I know, I know.” She shakes her head with a tired mirthless smile. “I’m working on it, really. This is just… more than I ever thought I could have,” she concludes, voice sweetened by gratitude, finally looking up at Peter.</p><p>He beams back at her, warm and kind and…</p><p>“You knew already,” Gamora says rather than ask, peering at him with curiosity.</p><p>Peter shrugs easily. “Kinda.”</p><p>“Why did you let me go on?”</p><p>His smile softens even more. “Thought maybe I didn’t need to hear it, but you needed to talk about it.”</p><p>A little “oh” is all she can muster, stunned by his insightfulness and consideration. He seems to find endless ways to surprise her, to care for her. “Thanks,” she croaks.</p><p>Gently, Peter squeezes her hand, sending a pleasant jolt through her.</p><p>“Anytime.”</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Final chapter! Thank you for reading this far and hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By now, they have been poring over the holomap for hours. They know every nook and cranny of the building, every hiding place, every secret passage. They can recite the guards’ shifts by heart, can pick the quantum locks in seconds, can recognize the Ankh key from its copies with their eyes closed.</p><p>Yet they have no plan.</p><p>“Ok, how ‘bout this,” Peter begins once again, sitting up as the Guardians lay in varying degrees of exasperation and exhaustion around the table where all their devices are scattered. “The Sovereign receives a shipment of Cotati fibers every couple days. We hide in the cargo and enter through the eastern dock, then–”</p><p>“Biodetectors,” Gamora interrupts, not even lifting her head from the desk. “They check the cargo, they find us, they kill us.”</p><p>Peter’s shoulders fall a little, before he perks up again. “But,” he proposes again, “What if we are the ones delivering the cargo?”</p><p>Rocket snorts. “The same guys have been handlin’ the job for years, you think they won’t notice? They suspect somethin’, they find us, they kill us.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” the captain concedes, leaning back into the chair and letting himself slide down, eyes turning to the ceiling. “The ceiling!” he exclaims, jumping up. “We land on the roof, find a vent and slide down!”</p><p>“Perhaps you are forgetting the pressure sensors?” Mantis interjects timidly. “I believe they would hear the alarm, find us and–”</p><p>“Kill us, yeah…” Peter finishes, slumping back again.</p><p>A few minutes pass in silence as the Guardians mull over the details of the Sovereign security, trying to figure out a way to retrieve the priceless artifact.</p><p>“Fine, let’s try again.” Gamora starts, raising her head to glance at the map. “The only way in would be through the southern gate,” she summarizes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We would have a five minute window, which might be just enough–”</p><p>“If those golden imbeciles didn’t patrol the next corridor at irregular times,” Rocket rebuts, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.</p><p>“I could sense them coming,” comes Mantis’s hopeful suggestion. “And it would be easy to put them to sleep before they would be able to alert others.”</p><p>“I am Groot,” the Flora Colossus adds, demonstrating on an empty can how his fast growing vines can crush a man’s torso.</p><p>“A’ight, say we reach the vault. There’s an entire troop there, and we can’t blow ‘em up either, ‘cause if the explosives damage the gate there’s no d’ast way in.”</p><p>“No amount of enemies intimidates me. I shall crush them where they stand, reduce them–”</p><p>“Unnecessary.” Gamora stops Drax’s imaginary bloodshed. “Also, too slow. We’d be surrounded in seconds.”</p><p>“Unless…”</p><p>“I am Groot?”</p><p>“Unless we distract those idiots to begin with.” Rocket’s eyes sparkle diabolically at the newfound solution. “They double the security in the throne room whenever their precious queen has guests. The corridors would be half empty if someone entertained her moronic majesty.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>Peter’s smirk promises nothing but trouble. “I know how,” he replies to Gamora with a wink.</p><p> </p><p>“There!” Rocket exclaims as the last piece of the mechanism finds its place and the quantum lock opens.</p><p>Cautiously, Gamora follows him and Groot inside the vault.</p><p>“Eyes open,” she turns to say to Mantis and Drax.</p><p>The Destroyer appears perplexed and vainly tries to avoid blinking.</p><p>“Just guard the door and warn us if anyone comes!” Gamora explains, a little more exasperated than the circumstances would justify. The idea of Peter acting as bait for the High Priestess makes her nervous in more ways than one, but she tries to push down the feeling and concentrate on the task at hand.</p><p>Forcing a steadying breath, she turns to take in the vault. It’s a great, golden hall, filled to the brim with everything a thief’s heart could desire, yet finding the Ankh key is easy. A faint gleam guides them to the object, secured by a series of force fields, as expected.</p><p>Groot drops the sack he has been carrying and Rocket rummages through it, finally extracting a gravity mine, appropriately enhanced.</p><p>“Hurry,” Gamora urges under her breath. There is no telling how much time they have.</p><p>The device starts pulling at the radiating artifact, breaking its constraints one by one until, with a triumphant exclamation, Groot can finally grab it.</p><p>“Alright, let’s go.”</p><p>They hasten back to the door to find Drax and Mantis, then together along the corridor and through the palace once more, finally reaching the southern gate.</p><p>The Benatar is docked halfway across the gilded capital, disguised among the myriad of merchant vessels that reach the planet daily to refurbish its inhabitants with the most extravagant goods. As smoothly and inconspicuously as possible, the Guardians mix in with the crowd, heading for the port. They walk a few meters apart to attract less attention, yet always on each other’s line of sight, turning into secondary streets and often deviating from the straightforward route, until eventually they reach the outskirts of the city. Earlier in the day, the place would be bursting with activity, but now the only noise is the soft hum of the rows of Anulax batteries charging the docked ships.</p><p>The knot in Gamora’s stomach loosens a bit, allowing her to feel more like her usual self. After all, nothing justifies the edginess this mission seems to be causing her: they have had minor skirmishes with the Sovereign before, they have retrieved valuable artifacts from virtually impenetrable locations before, nothing is out of the ordinary. Except…</p><p>“Peter,” she calls over the communicator. “We’re out, meet us at the port.”</p><p>She knows she can expect no reply: during the briefing they had underlined how the plan hinged on Peter's ability to convincingly pretend he was acting alone. Nevertheless, the reminder that all she can do is hope for the best stirs her discomfort once more.</p><p>The Guardians can walk more briskly now, unbothered by whether their pace raises suspicion. They pass cargo ships from dozens of planets, relentlessly making way towards their vessel. As the setting sun begins to tint the sky a vibrant shade of orange, a stray Orloni crosses their path, but other than that the docks are deserted.</p><p>The quiet seems to somewhat soothe the agitation caused by the mission. Now that their task is nearly complete and the hardest part is over, the team starts feeling more relaxed.</p><p>“Wonder how many units this baby’s worth,” Rocket says.</p><p>“We’re not selling it,” Gamora replies curtly.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reckon it be a few hundred thousand, though.”</p><p>“I am Groot?”</p><p>“Dunno. The Broker, I guess. Maybe that guy on Sakaar, if–”</p><p>Gamora tunes out the mindless chatter, concentrating only on her steps. Her sense of unease has not subsided yet and her mind keeps reminding her of everything that could still go horribly wrong. The forced lack of communication with a member of the team is driving her crazy, especially, despite how much she hates to admit it, considering who that member is. It could be hours before they would know if anything had happened to Peter and by then who knows what conditions he would be in. He could be imprisoned, hurt, tortured– An involuntary shudder runs through her at the idea and she wills herself to change the subject. She goes over the plan again, from the very beginning, replaying every step in her head, but her thoughts keep getting caught in spirals of worry. Frustrated with herself, she tries to allow the conversation to distract her.</p><p>“...at least a couple millions, righ?” Rocket says, apparently still blabbering about imaginary profits. Gamora cannot help but shake her head, amused.</p><p>“How do you estimate such value?” Drax asks.</p><p>“Unique piece, heavily guarded, fancy-shmancy name,” the raccoon lists, counting the supposed reasons on his fingers. “And who knows what Quill’s had to do for us to get it!” He concludes with a laugh.</p><p>“Hey! I’ll have you know my honor is still very much intact,” comes a voice behind them.</p><p>They do not need to turn to know who it is and Gamora lets out a quiet breath of relief.</p><p>“Peter!” Mantis exclaims , delighted. “You made it!”</p><p>“How did ya manage to distract ‘em then, uh?” Rocket teases.</p><p>“Oldest trick in the book. Had her majesty talk about herself,” he replies with a wink and a confident smirk that turns into a genuine smile as his eyes meet Gamora’s. His gaze lingers for a second before he refocuses and asks “So, you’ve got it?”</p><p>“I am Groot!” The teenager answers, shaking the sack.</p><p>“Great,” Peter says cheerfully, as they resume walking towards the Benatar, finally in sight. “How did it go?”</p><p>“Smooth as Drax’s big bald head!” Rocket replies, earning a vaguely confused glare by the Destroyer. “Really, Quill, we should go on missions without you more often,” the raccoon continues, teasing. “It was easy as–”</p><p>His voice is cut off by the roaring sound of engines, glaring lights momentarily blinding them before a fleet of Omnicrafts appears at their every side, accompanied by a multitude of on-foot soldiers, completely surrounding the group.</p><p>Rocket curses under his breath.</p><p>“You are under arrest for theft,” comes the blaring magnified voice of the Admiral. “All resistance is futile, surrender the Anulax batteries.”</p><p>“Anul...” Peter repeats confused for a second, before glaring at Rocket. “Are you kidding me?!”</p><p>The raccoon shrugs unapologetically. “They were right on our way and they’re worth so – many – units!” he explains.</p><p>Gamora mentally reproaches herself as she looks around to assess the situation. Had she not been distracted by her thoughts, she could have stopped Rocket foolishness and they would already be heading away. Instead...</p><p>“I repeat, you are under arrest. Surrender or be destroyed.”</p><p>Peter puffs. “So close…” he mutters. “Alright, alright,” he adds at a higher volume, raising his hands and walking towards the Admiral. “We really don’t want any trouble, we’re just gonna–” Lightning-fast, his hands reach his blasters and aim a few shots, as he rolls to avoid one from the closest Omicraft.</p><p>The Guardians are quick to follow their captain. Groot’s vines tie around one of the ships and use it to bludgeon the others, while Drax unsheathes his knives and runs at the troops yelling. Rocket is quick to extract a couple laser cannons from the sack and throw one to Mantis, while Gamora is already slashing at the enemies.</p><p>And yet, even as the battle ensues in all its confusion, she can see that there are too many. It is an oncoming avalanche, one guard substituting the other as soon as they fall. But their ship is close, so close, and if they manage to open a path across the enemy lines maybe they can make it.</p><p>She sets aside the sword for a pair of blasters, firing away and trying to create a gap in the wall of Omincrafts. “Rocket!” she yells to the closest Guardian over the chaos. “We need to get to the Benatar!”</p><p>Her teammate nods and gestures for Mantis to cover him as he drops his weapon and fishes in the sack, extracting a bunch of wires, a few tools and the incriminating batteries.</p><p>Before she can see what he is assembling, Gamora is distracted by a couple of shots that miss her only by a few centimeters. Turning, she sees the Omnicrafts closing in on them ever more rapidly. She aims at the engine of the ship hovering above a group of enemies, sending it spiraling down and crashing into them. She risks glancing at Rocket again, to check on the status of whatever he is making. Maybe a few more shots and–</p><p>“Surrender! We have your captain.”</p><p>The Admiral’s words instantly chill the blood in her veins. The confusion of the battle immediately dies down, as no Guardian dares to move a muscle. Slowly, Gamora turns looking for Peter, hoping her sight will disprove what she refuses to accept. But he is there, trapped by half a dozen guards, held at gunpoint by the Admiral, weapons scattered on the ground, a trickle of blood rolling down his cheek.</p><p>Gamora’s heart races in her chest, as she tries to catch her breath and think. She knows that it may look like a stalemate, but in reality the Guardians are defeated: abandoning Peter is clearly out of the question, yet even if they surrender, their destiny is sealed. The Sovereign regards all crimes as treason, and punishes treason with a merciless and torturous death. Either way, they are doomed. Her gaze finds Peter, struggling, hurting, and she nearly crumbles.</p><p>In a desperate attempt, she does the only logical thing that occurs to her and aims at the Admiral.</p><p>Incredulity flashes on his face for a second, then a cruel laughter breaks the tense silence.</p><p>“You fool,” he scoffs. “My life’s purpose is to serve the High Priestess and the council. It is what I have been designed for, and like me all of the Sovereign army. If you eliminate me, a thousand can take my place.”</p><p>For a moment, Gamora is at a loss again, her mind scrambling for what to do, how to save her team, how to save <em>Peter</em>.</p><p>Then, she points the blaster at Rocket, or rather, at the batteries in his hands.</p><p>It takes a millisecond for everyone to register her action and paralyze with tension. There would be no escape from the detonation: the whole planet would be annihilated and all life on it would be doomed, including the High Priestess.</p><p>“Let him go,” Gamora demands, her voice clear and even.</p><p>The Admiral stares at her, evaluating his choices, calculating the odds of survival of his race. His hands twitch almost imperceptibly as soldiers and Guardians hold their breath.</p><p>“Let – him – go,” Gamora repeats, emphasizing each word.</p><p>She can see her enemy’s accelerated pulse, hear the uncertainty in his voice when he mutters “You wouldn’t…”</p><p>Her eyes narrow at the insinuation, a determined fury emanates from her, her glare dares him to test her.</p><p>“Fine!” The Admiral snarls, gesturing with a brisk movement to his troops, who immediately release Peter. He stumbles to his feet, quickly reaching his companions.</p><p>“We are going.” Gamora announces, not moving an inch. “Rocket, leave the batteries.”</p><p>Shooting her a dirty look, the raccoon complies as the Guardians retreat towards the ship. Only Peter lingers a moment longer, waiting for Gamora.</p><p>“Go,” she says without turning and adds, before he can object, “I’m right behind you.” She does not move until she hears his steps on the metal gangway of the Benatar.</p><p>“You will not follow us.” Under Gamora’s menacing look, the Admiral is still frozen in his spot, almost shaking with constrained fury. “If you make any attempt to hunt us, your whole civilization will be nothing but a forgotten blemish on the history of the universe.” She can read in the enemies’ expression that they know who she is and what she is capable of: they are perfectly aware that her threats are not empty words.</p><p>Slowly, she starts backing away, blaster never straining from the batteries, until she reaches the ship. The Guardians need no prompting, as they swiftly take off. In absolute silence, they leave the planet, holding their breath until they are safely out of range.</p><p>Not an instant later, hell breaks loose.</p><p>“You – were – gonna – kill us!” Rocket yells in a crescendo. “What is wrong with you, have you forgot–”</p><p>“What battle tactic requires the sacrifice of the entire team?” Drax demands indignantly as Groot exclaims a series of “I am Groot!”, pacing the deck.</p><p>“You absolute moron, what were you–”</p><p>“How could you put us through that pressure?” Mantis asks trembling, her antennae glowing in an erratic pattern. “The emotion–”</p><p>“I am Groot!”</p><p>“The plan you had devised was unworthy of a war–”</p><p>“You weren’t! You weren’t think–”</p><p>“That tension–”</p><p>“I aaam Groot! I am Grooo–”</p><p>“I can’t believe the idio–”</p><p>Gamora’s door slams shut, drowning the voices of her teammates as she slides to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>When she finds the strength to emerge, it is late in the sleep cycle. Crossing the drowsing stillness of the Benatar, she quietly reaches the top deck to see they have landed on a silent, desert shore: the silvery glow of a full moon reflects onto small waves, while two crescents hang in a sky dotted with stars. As the inviting scenery coaxes her out, a delicate breeze plays with her hair and the moonlight caresses her skin.</p><p>Sitting down on a smooth rock, Gamora lets the calming beauty of the cosmos wash over her.</p><p>This is how Peter finds her, staring at unknown constellations with an inscrutable expression.</p><p>His steps are soft, muffled by the sand, as he walks unhurriedly towards her. “That was one hell of a bluff,” he comments once he has reached her side, almost casually.</p><p>Gamora lets her gaze wander the galaxies swirling over the shimmering sea.</p><p>“I mean, it’s pretty impressive. You were so– so quick on your feet, thinking fast, I wouldn’t have–” A glance is enough to stop his rambling. Her eyes return to the sky and Peter sits on the ground next to her, quietly enjoying the cool night air.</p><p>The silence lingers on, as they admire the seascape, breathing in the ocean, lost in their thoughts. It stretches, safe and comfortable, while Peter waits patiently, appreciating the temporary serenity of the moment.</p><p>It takes a while for Gamora to finally speak.</p><p>“It wasn’t a bluff,” she says, still staring ahead, voice so low it is almost inaudible.</p><p>Peter looks at her, surprised.</p><p>“I couldn’t let them take you,” she confesses. Turning towards him, she continues, her tone almost apologetical, “I know it wasn’t a smart decision–”</p><p>“You got us all out of there alive,” Peter counters emphatically. “It was a great decision.”</p><p>Gamora shakes her head, the gentle waves of her hair mirroring the soft movement of the sea. “You heard the others. I was crazy to risk everything for… for you,” she concludes, averting her eyes.</p><p>“You would have done that for any of us.”</p><p>Gamora does not answer, and in her silence it would be easy to read dissent.</p><p>“It was wrong to take away their choice,” she finally says, looking at Peter once again.</p><p>“That’s nonsense! We’re <em>us</em>, given the choice they would have risked it.”</p><p>“You don’t know that.”</p><p>“Yeah, I do,” Peter replies. His vehement tone soften a bit as he continues “Look, remember when–”</p><p>He wants to tell Gamora about Groot, growing strong and protective around them to save them from looming danger despite not knowing if he was going to survive. But she was not there.</p><p>“Remember when–”</p><p>He wants to tell her about Rocket, Groot and Drax threatening the Ravagers to save the both of them, about how they all shared an Infinity Stone among them, about Mantis revealing Ego’s plan to Drax to let them escape from the infernal planet. But she was not there.</p><p>“Remember when–”</p><p>He wants to tell her of every time anyone of the Guardians was ready to sacrifice everything for the team, without even considering any other option, because it comes so naturally that they do not need to make a decision. His mind scrambles for one of those occasions when she was actually there to witness it.</p><p>“Remember when you met us?” Peter finally asks. “Rocket had just spent years trying to figure out a way to save us. He was risking his life to get us back.”</p><p>“Still, it was not my choice to make, to sacrifice them–”</p><p>“You weren’t. That’s what being Guardians is,” Peter tries to explain. “We have chosen this day in day out for years now, it’s no longer a choice, it’s who we are. We’ve made this decision over and over and over, and the result never changes. We’re ready to sacrifice everything for this team, this family. When you care that much for someone, you are willing to abandon everything, to endure anything, to <em>die</em>, because nothing would be worse than living without the person you love.” He is earnest as only Peter can be when he lets go of his facade, his eyes are sincere and fervent and ablaze with stars, and Gamora finally understands what he is truly talking about.</p><p>“Peter…” she sighs, suddenly breathless as she tries to find the words to express the storm of emotions inside her. Fear, relief, love: they swirl and swell and surge and threaten to overtake her, to the point that all she can manage is a feeble whisper.</p><p>“I thought I had lost you.”</p><p>As Gamora unknowingly echoes his first words to her, Peter’s heartbeat accelerates. He is almost afraid of this fragile hope, yet when he gazes deep into her eyes, her loving expression dispels any lingering doubt. His hand reaches up to her cheek and he delicately tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, fingers lightly stroking the curve of her neck. Reveling in the moment, he leans in ever so slowly until his lips brush hers, soft and gentle and sweet, and her eyes flutter close, hands curling into his hair, pulling him close.</p><p>From sweet and tender, the kiss turns ardent, fiery, passionate as Peter and Gamora blissfully lose themselves in the moment, knowing that, finally, they are found.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Your comments make my day :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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